


Election Day

by edna_blackadder



Category: Arrested Development
Genre: F/M, Yuletide 2008
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-20
Updated: 2008-12-20
Packaged: 2017-12-07 08:15:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/746320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edna_blackadder/pseuds/edna_blackadder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Very Special Episode of <i>Arrested Development</i>: the Bluth family vs. the 2008 election.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Election Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Minim Calibre (minim_calibre)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/minim_calibre/gifts).



> This was originally written for Minim Calibre for Yuletide 2008. Thanks to sarcasticsra for the beta.

_Now the story of a wealthy family who lost everything, and the one son who had no choice but to keep them all together. It’s a Very Special Episode of_ Arrested Development _._

_Michael Bluth was excited. Admittedly, politics had never been Michael’s forte, but it was an historic election, and it was hard not to care just a little bit._

Michael wandered into the kitchen, where a hung-over Lindsay and a cheery Tobias were eating potato chips for breakfast. Clearly, no one had gone to the grocery store, but this morning Michael had a more serious message for his sister and brother-in-law, so he refrained from commenting.

“Do you two know what day it is?” Michael asked. Lindsay and Tobias gazed back at him with “um, duh” looks. Michael wasn’t reassured.

“Of course, Michael, it’s Tuesday. Just a Tuesday like any other Tuesday. Soon we’ll all have to go to work.” Lindsay punctuated that remark by massaging her forehead.

“Okay, first of all, you two don’t have jobs, and secondly, it’s not a Tuesday like any other Tuesday. It’s Election Day. Barack Obama? John McCain? You may have heard of them?”

Tobias quickly moved to put on a falsely affronted front. “Well, of course we know it’s Election Day, Michael. We’re just too busy with our busy jobs to have much time to think about the candidates and the issues and… well, in my career as an actor—”

“You don’t have a career, and that’s not the point. I’d like you two to set a good example for your daughter by voting today. It’s an historic election and we should all do our civic duty.”

Just at that moment, Maeby wandered in. So did Gob, who had been sitting on the patio unnoticed the entire time. “I don’t need them to set an example for me. I’ve supported Barack for months.”

_Michael was caught off guard._

“You—you have? Well, that’s great, Maeby. I guess I kinda underestimated you. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah,” said Maeby. “I’ve been making phone calls for him ever since he got into the race.”

_She hadn’t. Generally apathetic, Maeby had begun supporting Barack Obama only after John McCain chose Alaska Governor Sarah Palin as his running mate. Maeby knew that her job at the movie studio was in jeopardy, and she also knew that her proposed reality show,_ The Palins _, was her best chance at keeping it._

Michael turned back to Lindsay and Tobias. “Well, clearly Maeby doesn’t need your example, but I still think you two ought to vote this time. I mean, you are the activists in the family, and I think it would be good for us if you were at least seen at the polls today—”

Michael was interrupted again, this time by Gob. “Michael,” he said menacingly. “I see how it is. You want Gob to do your dirty work for you, just like always.”

“Wha-wha-what dirty work?”

“Okay, Michael. I’ll set an example for your son. And I’ll go one better. Why just vote? Why not run for office? Think big, Michael, think big!”

“That’s crazy, Gob, and more than a little late in the game. And I don’t need you to set an example for George Michael. He went out to vote this morning.”

“Yeah, and it was amazing!” said George Michael, who had just returned from his first ever foray into the adult world of civic responsibility. “I’m really excited, Dad. I mean, I know my vote didn’t mean much, because California’s a blue state, but I’m really excited about Obama. I can’t wait to see the election results.”

“That’s great, George Michael, that’s just great. I’m so glad you appreciate the importance of this election. Now, I’m just gonna head out to vote myself, before I’m late to work—”

“I don’t know, Dad. You should probably go in first and then ask Sitwell if you can take a long lunch. The lines are crazy; you could be out there for hours… oh, but it’s totally worth it, though.”

Michael nodded. “Thanks for tipping me off. Boy, you really are a smart kid.” He leaned over and squeezed his son’s shoulder, his heart swelled as George Michael smiled.

“Thanks, Dad.”

“Enough of this mushy crap. Who wants to help me work on my campaign signs?”

_Even Lindsay and Tobias understood why that was ridiculous. Michael started to leave for work, but he was accosted by his younger brother._

“Heeeeeey, brother,” said Buster, embracing Michael in a way that made both brothers slightly uncomfortable. Buster pulled back, then said, without preamble, “I miss Mom.”

_Buster did miss Lucille. After a long and protracted trial somehow even more nightmarish than George Sr.’s had been, she had finally been found guilty and sentenced to five years in prison. George Sr. had made a break for it while he could, but Buster wasn’t taking his mother’s absence nearly as well._

“I know you do, buddy,” said Michael kindly. “But you gotta understand. She’s guilty. So was Dad. We are a very guilty family.”

“I know, Michael, but I can’t stand being trapped at home by myself. I mean, at first it was nice, because I got to drink lots of juice, but now my panic attacks are getting worse and it’s horrible and I really need to see Mom! Can you drive me over to the prison?”

“You know, Buster, you can drive yourself over there—”

“Not in this mental state I can’t!” Buster screamed, and Michael knew when to give in.

“Okay, Buster. Why don’t you stay here for a while, and I’ll take you to see Mom during my long lunch, after I do my civic duty and vote. All right?”

“All right,” said Buster morosely, and Michael left the model home.

_Meanwhile, Lindsay and Tobias were at work, stretched out in the living room in front of the TV. California, of course, was largely spared political ads, but when Barack Obama’s face appeared on the TV, Lindsay found that she did actually feel inspired. So did Tobias._

“I’m gonna get my hair done!”

“I’ve got an audition!”

_Lindsay and Tobias left the house. But they seemed to be going in the same direction. Actually, Lindsay had just gotten her hair done the day before, and Tobias did not have an audition. They both wanted to vote for the handsome, eloquent, inspiring Barack Obama, but when Tobias arrived at the local polling place just a few steps behind Lindsay, he learned what she had just learned: you have to register to vote, and they both were, of course, far too late._

“Well,” said Lindsay irritably. “No good deed goes unpunished.”

_Meanwhile, Michael had arrived at the office. But no sooner had he flagged Stan Sitwell down to request his long lunch that his cell phone rang._

“Aaahhh! Michael!”

“Mom, you’ve got to stop starting conversations like that.”

“Michael, you’ve got to come down to the prison! It’s an emergency!”

“Mom, you being sober doesn’t qualify as an emergency.”

“No, Michael, it’s your Uncle Oscar! He’s come to see me, but I don’t want to see him. If Warden Gentles suspects that there’s anything between me and your uncle, I’ll lose my chance at parole! You’ve got to come down to the prison to get rid of him!”

“Mom—”

“Just go, Michael,” said Sitwell.

“Okay, okay, Mom, I’m coming.” Michael hung up. “I’m so sorry about that—”

“Better this than her calling you all day.”

“Right. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

_So Michael went down to the prison to visit his mother and get rid of his amorous uncle._

“So, Mom, why is it you can’t just kick Oscar out yourself?”

Lucille sighed. “That hair…”

“So it did grow back. Okay. I’ll see what I can do, but this better be quick. It’s Election Day, Mom, and I need to make sure I vote.”

“Since when do you care about politics?”

“Well, it’s more about setting a good example for my son, but I do support Obama. I mean, if nothing else, he’ll end the war in Iraq and maybe we won’t be on the news so much.”

“They’re still talking about that? Your father was set up!”

“It’s still absurd, and as such, it’s still news. Like it or not, until Iraq goes away, we’re going to be the family that built homes over there. But I don’t have time for this. Let me just get Uncle Oscar and get out.”

“Yes, get him out of here before he forces himself on me in front of the Warden.”

“And oh look, there’s my breakfast.”

_Michael entered the conjugal trailer and made sure to keep his eyes on his uncle’s face._

“You’re not your mother,” Oscar said with disappointment, but unfortunately for Michael, he made no move to cover up.

“No, and you’re not going to be getting any from her in the near future. Look, why don’t you spend some time with Buster? He’s going crazy without Mom—oh, [bleep], Buster.”

_So Michael drove Oscar back to the model home, and then drove both Oscar and a scarily insistent Buster back to the prison to see Lucille. By the time he got back to the office, Michael had already taken a long lunch, and it wasn’t even lunchtime. Then, his phone rang again._

“Michael, it’s Gob. You need to come down to the prison.”

“What? No. Look, I don’t care if Uncle Oscar forced himself on Mom—”

“What? Don’t be disgusting, Michael! No, you need to come down to the prison because I kind of got just a little bit arrested today.”

“You what?! Gob, you didn’t seriously try to run for president, did you?”

_Gob had. But he was really just concerned with rounding up girls with low self-esteem to serve as his campaign models. So Gob combed the beach, but it wasn’t spring break. The girls there in November had slightly higher self-esteem, and Gob was arrested by two nice young cops who had been taking their adorable three-year-old child out for a frozen banana._

“Gob, this is ridiculous. I cannot believe it—well, okay, actually I can, but that doesn’t mean—oh, [bleep].”

_Michael was angry, and he kicked the wall in frustration, causing the overhead light fixture to come crashing down to the floor, thereby starting a fire. Noticing Sitwell’s death glare, Michael hurried down to the prison to release Gob. While there, he encountered Oscar and a much calmer Buster, who were both in need of a ride home. By the time Michael finished fulfilling his familial obligations, it was past lunchtime, and he had neither voted nor done any actual work at his job._

Michael stayed late at the office, trying to make up for his many absences. Around six o’clock, George Michael and Maeby sat down to watch election results, cheering as the Northeast gradually turned blue. George Michael could barely contain his excitement.

“This is so awesome! Thank God we got Pennsylvania. I mean, I figured we would, but McCain did push hard there—” George Michael broke off, then looked directly at his cousin. “I’m really glad we can do this together. I didn’t think you cared about politics.”

“Oh, George Michael.” For once in her life, Maeby really didn’t want to disillusion him. This was partly because they were sitting closer than either was acknowledging. She sighed. “Of course I do.”

“I—I—good,” George Michael stuttered. “That’s really good; I’m really glad.”

_They continued to watch, and although Maeby didn’t really care about politics, she knew that when Ohio turned blue, her job security was basically assured._

“Yes!” shouted George Michael. “Yes, yes, y—”

He didn’t finish that thought, because Maeby was kissing him passionately.

_When Ohio was called, the polls had not yet closed in California. But they soon would, and Michael, who was still trying to make up for his absences and damages at the office, missed the deadline by about five minutes._

“[Bleep]! [Bleep], [bleep], [bleep]—after all those lectures, [bleep]! Can’t you please let me in? I need to set an example for my son—”

“No point. The election’s over, and we want to get the [bleep] home.”

So Michael returned home, hypocritical and ashamed of himself. Lindsay and Tobias were right behind him. George Michael and Maeby broke apart and slid as far apart from each other as possible.

“Hi, Dad!” cried George Michael. “Isn’t it great? Obama’s going to win!”

“Yeah,” Michael replied with resignation. “It’s gonna be great. You did well, buddy.”

“We all did well,” corrected Tobias. “My lovely wife”—even Lindsay rolled her eyes at this statement—“and I went out to vote this afternoon, Michael, just like you said.”

_Technically, it wasn’t a lie. They did go out with the intention of voting. But Michael didn’t get that, and he felt even worse._

“Yeah,” said Michael heavily. “We all did well.”

_On the next_ Arrested Development _…_

_Lindsay and Tobias discover Proposition 8._

“It’s a good thing, Lindsay. Homosexuals can still get married! Just as long as they marry someone of the opposite sex.”

“I want a divorce.”

_Maeby sits down with Sarah Palin._

“Okay, moose-hunting sounds good. How do you feel about shower scenes?”

_And Michael finally hears from his father, asking to be sprung from prison in Mexico._

“I am so sorry, Stan.”

“Clean out your desk, Michael.”


End file.
